


Insomnia

by Feed_The_Pigeons



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Destiel - Freeform, Eventual Smut, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-01-11
Updated: 2020-01-11
Packaged: 2021-02-27 08:00:43
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,527
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22203742
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Feed_The_Pigeons/pseuds/Feed_The_Pigeons
Summary: In a world where the supernatural doesn't exist, Mary was never killed by Azazel, and the boys were saved from a life of hunting, Dean is plagued by nightmares of what could have been. Every night he dreams of monsters and demons, death and destruction. He sees visions of things he doesn't understand, glimpses of people he doesn't know: hell, the apocalypse, and a man in a dirty, old trench coat with the bluest eyes he's every seen.
Relationships: Castiel/Dean Winchester
Comments: 4
Kudos: 21





	Insomnia

**Author's Note:**

> Hello everyone! So, this is something that I’ve been working on for a long, long time. I started writing this right after the season 14 finale, but it never really went anywhere. Until now, that is. I’m very excited for this, I hope you all enjoy, and I hope this doesn't suck!

**_“I hope that if alternate universes exist, it will still be you and me in the end. I hope that there will always be an us. In every world, in every story.”_ **

Something was wrong with Dean and in all honesty, Sam didn’t notice at first. After all, they only saw each other once or twice a year. Maybe three times if one of them was feeling a little sentimental.

Once Dean turned eighteen, he decided Kansas wasn’t the place for him anymore. Lawrence was too small. Dad was too strict. Mom was always worrying. He said it was too much. He wasn’t satisfied. 

So, a week after his birthday, he loaded up the Impala (a gift from their father for said birthday), picked a destination way out West, floored it, and didn’t look back. 

For Sam, their relationship practically ended right there. 

He felt abandoned. He felt betrayed. Like Dean didn’t want them anymore. Like he didn’t want _him_ anymore. 

Eventually, all that bitterness he felt turned to anger and resentment. 

If Dean didn’t want a relationship with him- if he wanted to keep driving and running and only speaking to him through crackling hotel phones- that was his problem. 

They didn’t talk again for years; not until after Sam and Jessica got engaged and she convinced him to ask Dean to be his best man at the wedding. He expected the question to fall on deaf ears. Instead, Dean surprised him with a very resounding “Hell yeah!”. 

Things got better after that. They spoke more. Sometimes Dean dropped by for holidays. It was alright, but not like it used to be and that still hurt. 

Sam didn’t know his brother, not really, and all things considered, he didn’t have the time or the energy to care anymore. 

Being angry was exhausting. Trying to fix things was exhausting. With so much on his plate, there wasn’t time to worry about Dean. 

He had just gotten a new job, him and Jess were married now, and to top it all off, they had a baby on the way. Dean wasn’t a top priority at the moment. 

That is, until the phone calls started. 

* * *

“Does this look alright to you?” 

Sam heard Jess sigh as he stepped back from the mantle, staring at the newly hanging banner with squinted eyes. 

“It’s a little off,” she offered as she ducked around him to sit a bowl of chips on the coffee table. “But I doubt anyone will notice.” 

“You think? Maybe I should just-” 

Before he could move or say anymore, Jess placed a hand on his shoulder. “Sam,” she said with a laugh. “It’s fine. Stop worrying.” 

He nodded his head and sighed. “Yeah, I guess you’re right.” 

It had taken all morning, but the Winchester’s living room was officially decorated. Every corner was covered in some varying shade of pink, gold, or yellow. There were streamers, balloons, sparkly tablecloths, and now, a big banner proudly proclaiming “Welcome, Rosemary Winchester!” in glittery, cursive letters. 

It looked great and Sam had no doubt that all their guests would love it, but he just wanted everything to be perfect. Jess had literally spent hours upon hours planning her baby shower and he wanted to make it look exactly how she had pictured it. 

As if she had read his mind, Jessica motioned for him to follow her towards the kitchen. 

“Look,” she said as he made his way around the coffee table and couch. “I know you’re doing your best, Sam, but you’re driving me crazy with all these little things. If you really want to help, you’ll leave the banner alone and set the table for me. Everyone’s gonna be here in a few hours and I’ve still got a lot to do.” 

“Fine, I guess I can leave it alone for now,” he said, placing a hand on her side. He leaned forward until their noses touched and smiled at her. “For you.” 

“Thank you,” she replied sweetly and gave him a kiss on the cheek. “Now, I have more cooking to do and you...” 

“Need to set the table,” he finished. 

“Bingo. Napkins, plates, cups, and forks. You got all that?” 

“I think I’ll manage.” He chuckled and followed her as she made her way to the kitchen. 

Nearly half an hour later, after many back and forth trips, the dining room table was set. Pink plates and cups were placed in front of every seat. Stacks of frilly napkins sat in the middle. Trays of appetizers and snacks that Jess had prepared for their guests covered every other empty surface. 

Once again, Sam had to step back and marvel at their work. This was exactly what he had always dreamed of. Growing up, he’d always seen those picture perfect, sitcom couples on TV and wanted something like that. 

He wanted the perfect wedding and perfect wife and perfect marriage. He wanted the big parties and birthdays with bouncy houses and family vacations to the beach. He wanted what he saw on TV. He wanted this. 

“Sam, can you put these in the dining room?” Jess yelled to him from the kitchen. 

Seconds later, he returned to the dining room with a tray of freshly baked and beautifully decorated cupcakes. 

_Pink just like everything else_ , he thought as he stared down at the tray. Jess definitely went over the top with this. She put her heart and soul into it. 

God, Sam loved that about her. 

He was still searching for a place to put the tray when suddenly, the doorbell rang. 

“I’ll be there in just a second!” Sam yelled as he sat the cupcakes down on the table and glanced up at the clock on the wall. It was only three thirty. The party wasn’t supposed to start until five. 

_It’s probably Jess’ parents,_ Sam thought as he wiped his hands on his jeans and headed towards the front door. _They’re always early._

Without hesitation, Sam unlocked the door and pulled it open. 

“Hey, so glad you could mak-,” The greeting he was about to give died on his lips as Sam suddenly realized who was standing there on the patio. For a moment, it was as if the world stood still. 

It was Dean. He knew it was Dean. But he couldn’t believe it. No, he didn’t _want_ to believe it. Because something was wrong. All it took was one look at his brother and Sam knew something was wrong. 

“Hey Sammy. How’ve you been?” Dean asked with a smirk, trying and failing to appear casual. 

“Dean?” Sam sputtered. His mind was running a mile a minute. “What’s up? What are you doing here?” 

As if he had been waiting for precisely that moment, he pulled an invitation out of his pocket and held it up between two fingers. 

“What?” he asked sarcastically. “I can’t just pop in for a visit?”

Sam didn’t know what to say. Of course they had sent him an invitation. Of course they had wanted him to be there. They just never expected him to actually show up. 

After all, Sam couldn’t count how many times he had called Dean and never received an answer. He couldn’t count how many letters and ignored party invitations he had sent. 

Dean was only there when Dean wanted to be there. It was all up to him. So, why would this time be any different? Why was he here? Sam had a feeling that it had nothing to do with him, Jessica, or their baby for that matter. 

A long silence passed between them before Sam finally nodded and stepped aside, motioning his brother forward into the house. 

“Don’t mind if I do,” he chuckled, cramming the already crumpled invitation back into his pocket.

 _Jess spent a lot of time on those,_ Sam thought absentmindedly. He tried to shake the image of her sitting at the kitchen table, painstakingly adding little bows to every handwritten card, from his head as he closed the door and followed Dean into the house. 

His brother paused to look at the decorations in the entrance hall. 

“Wow, you really went all out with this baby thing, didn’t you?” he said, jabbing his thumb towards the pink streamers hanging from the ceiling. 

Sam chuckled awkwardly. “Well, yeah. It’s a _baby_ shower, Dean.” 

“You having a girl?” 

Sam bit his lip. “Yeah, it- She’s a girl.” 

“Huh,” he muttered and then shrugged, continuing on into the house. 

Sam swallowed hard. 

They had known the baby’s gender for over a month now. They had called his parents in the car on their way home from the doctor’s office. They told everyone else the next day. Even Bobby had gotten word of it and sent a congratulations card their way. 

But before that, even before he called his parents, Sam called Dean. 

He wasn’t sure why he had been compelled to do so, but as soon as the car door closed behind him, he was punching in Dean’s number. 

“Are you serious?” Dean had practically screamed on the other end of the phone. “A girl? You guys are having a girl? I’m gonna have a niece? That’s freaking awesome!”

They had talked about it for nearly ten minutes, repeating the same things over and over again. Dean’s excitement was indescribable. Sam could practically hear him smiling through the phone. 

How could he have forgotten about that? How was that even possible? Sam didn’t know, but hearing that did nothing to sooth the fear that was already growing inside him. 

“Whoa,” Dean said with a whistle as he turned the corner and entered the living room. Sam followed close behind him. “I like what you’ve done with the place. It’s been a while since I’ve visited, but…” 

Suddenly, he trailed off, eyes focused on something across the room. Sam followed his line of sight. He was looking at the slightly uneven banner Sam had hung over the mantle earlier. Something in his expression changed. 

“Welcome, Rosemary Winchester,” he read out loud, voice barely over a whisper. “Where’d that name come from?” 

“Well,” Sam said, stumbling over his words. He watched his brother intently. “Jess wanted to name her after her mother and I wanted to name her after ours. In the end, we just put the name’s together.” 

“I like it. I-It's… It’s pretty.” 

Those words were the final nail in the coffin for Sam. The way he said it, the way his voice caught: he felt like he had been punched in the stomach. 

“Dean,” he said slowly. “Why are you really here?” 

For a moment, there was silence and then, a nervous chuckle. 

“What are you talking about?” He said in a halfhearted attempt to deflect. “ _You’re_ the one who invited me here. I don’t know what you’re talking about.” 

“Don’t play dumb, Dean. You’re not dumb. I know you’re not.” Sam reached out and placed a hand on his shoulder. “But you look bad. You look tired. I noticed it the moment I opened the door. I know something’s up.” 

He had never seen Dean look like that before. He had literally been at their house for Christmas. That wasn’t that long ago. In that span of a few months, he had somehow managed to age about ten years. 

It looked like all the life had been sucked out of him. 

“There’s nothing-” 

“Listen, I don’t care what it is or how bad it is. Whatever you’ve gotten into, we can deal with it, okay? I’m here for you. No matter what. Just tell me what’s going on.” 

Dean stared at him for a long moment before finally looking away. A deep sigh escaped him and like a balloon losing air, he physically deflated. His shoulders slumped. His head leaned forward. He dropped his eyes. 

“Sam, do you ever… do you ever get the feeling that something’s wrong? Like one morning you wake up and everything's fine and dandy and then suddenly, it’s not?” 

“What do you mean?” 

Dean squared his shoulders and took a deep breath, trying to steady himself. 

“Sammy, something weird’s going on,” he choked out. “And I don’t know what to do about it.” 

“Dean-” 

“I- I don’t feel right. Nothing feels right anymore. No matter what I do or what I say, something’s just _wrong_.” 

He paused and swallowed hard. “I keep having these nightmares,” he said lowly. “I keep seeing these… things that I don’t understand, but I _know_ they mean something. I know they do and if I’m being honest Sam, I’m scared out of my freaking mind.” 

“Dean, what do you mean by seeing things? What kind of things?” 

“I-” He started to say, but before he could get another word out, the kitchen door opened and Jess poked her head into the living room. 

“Hey, I heard the door. Who was-?” 

As soon as she realized who it was standing beside her husband, a beaming smile broke out across her face. 

“Dean! I can’t believe you actually came!” She quickly crossed the room and embraced him with open arms. “It’s so good to see you!” 

“It’s good to see you too, Jess,” he said, hugging her tightly, wearing a bright smile that rivaled her own. All his fear from the moment before had seemingly disappeared. It was as if he was a whole different person. 

“Honestly, I didn’t think you were gonna show. You should have told us,” she said as they parted and playfully punched his arm. “It said RSVP on the invitations for a reason, dumb ass.” 

He chuckled. “Well, you know me. I’ve never been very good at following directions.” 

Jess rolled her eyes. “I guess I’ll let it slide this one time, Winchester. That is, if you do me a favor.” 

“Depends, what kind of favor are we talking about?” He said with a smirk. 

“Get your head out of the gutter.” She said and turned back towards the kitchen. “I’ve been cooking all day, I feel disgusting, and I really don’t want to wash the dishes. If you could do that for me, I’d really appreciate it.” 

“You’re lucky you’re cute or I’d say no,” he said and followed her towards the kitchen. Over his shoulder, just before he reached the door, he shot a fleeting glance at his brother, cheerful facade fading away for a split second. A silent agreement passed between them. 

_We’ll talk about this later_ , he seemed to say. Sam nodded. 

The door closed behind him. 

* * *

Dean awoke in a panic, struggling and thrashing against unseen bonds. The bed sheets clung to his sweat covered skin as pain rippled through him. His breath came out in short, harsh gasps. Adrenaline burned like fire in his veins. 

Frantic, he pushed himself up onto his elbows and looked around. 

The hotel room was silent except for an old air conditioning unit clunking in the corner and the sound of traffic outside his window. There was no smoke. There was no fire. There was no chains and no pain and no screaming. 

All was quiet. All was normal. 

He was safe in bed, tucked beneath stiff linen sheets in a hotel just north of Palo Alto. It was just a nightmare. A horrible, horrible nightmare. 

But knowing that didn’t make it any better. 

Over the last few weeks, Dean had become well acquainted with these nightmares. All night long, every time he closed his eyes, every time he tried to sleep: they were there. 

Every night, he awoke in a pool of sweat, heat on his skin. He awoke yelling for help, for relief, for Sam to save him. 

_Sam_. The very thought of his brother was like a knife to his heart. 

He had been so worried about him. So afraid of what Dean was telling him. He had wanted to help, to make things better. Even after Jess interrupted them, Sam had tried to approach him during the baby shower. 

But it was too late then. Dean had already lost his nerve. Just like every other time he had picked up the phone and almost called his brother. Just like every unsent text message and every crumpled, thrown away letter. 

Dean wanted to tell him. He wanted to tell him so bad it hurt, but somehow he managed to talk himself out of it every time and today had been no different from the rest. 

He thought if he saw Sam in person, if they were standing face to face, it would change things. It would be easier. 

Dean sighed and leaned back in bed, squeezing his eyes shut and taking a deep breath. He couldn’t do this for much longer. These nightmares; they were torture. They felt real. 

His hands tightened in the bed sheets at his side. Why didn’t he tell Sam? Why didn’t he do something when he had the chance? Did he want to be miserable forever? Did he want to live like this? 

No. No, he didn’t. And there was still time to fix it. Sam; that was the answer. If he just called Sam and told him what was happening, he could do something. He could help Dean fix this. They could figure this shit out. 

Reaching out to the nightstand, Dean groped around blindly until he found his phone. Without a second thought, he punched in Sam’s number and pressed the phone to his ear. 

It was around the fourth or fifth ring when all of his doubts from before began to return. 

Yeah, Sam could help him figure this out or he could not believe him. What if he didn’t get it? What if he didn’t care? What if he thought Dean was crazy? 

What if he really was crazy? 

He was about to reconsider the call when Sam answered. 

“Hello?” He said on the other end and immediately, every word Dean wanted to say died on his lips. 

How was he supposed to explain this? How did he expect Sam to believe him or think he was anything other than insane? 

“Hello? Is anyone there? Can you hear me?” 

With shaking hands, Dean slowly lowered the phone from his ear and hung up. Just like at the baby shower, he couldn’t do it. He didn’t know what to say. He didn’t know how to explain it. 

Hell, he didn’t even know what _it_ was. 

He sighed and tossed his phone back onto the nightstand. The old mattress creaked beneath him as he laid back. What was he supposed to do? If he couldn’t talk to Sam about this, who could he talk to? 

Dean stared at the ceiling for what seemed like hours, unable to sleep, unable to close his eyes. If he did, he knew what was going to happen. He knew what he was going to see. 

Dean didn’t know exactly what he was seeing, but he had a theory. A theory that no matter how hard he tried to shake it from his head, it refused to budge. 

Dean believed he was dreaming of hell. 

* * *

**_May 26 - 7:33 AM_ **

“Hey, Dean. Um… this is Sam. I’m sorry that I’m calling so early, but I just woke up and realized that it was you who was trying to reach me last night. I just… didn’t recognize your number, I guess. I don’t know. It was late and I was tired. Anyways, I don’t know if it was an accidental call or miss dial or whatever, but if you wanna talk just call me whenever. I’ll try to keep my phone on. Talk to you later. Bye.” 

**_June 2 - 1:52 PM_ **

“Hey, Dean. Sam here. This is a weird question, but is something up with your phone? I keep getting calls from you, but you never say anything and you never answer so… I just thought maybe something was up with it. Sorry to bother you. Bye.” 

**_June 3 - 8: 23 AM_ **

“Okay, Dean. Okay. I don’t know what you’re playing at, but it’s driving me crazy. Either talk to me or stop calling. I can’t take it anymore.” 

_**August 2 - 4: 12 PM** _

“Hey, Dean. I know it’s been a while since we’ve talked and… I wasn’t exactly being friendly the last time I left a message, but I just got a call from mom and she said she hasn’t heard from you in two months. She said she didn’t know where you were or if you were okay. She sounded worried. I’m worried. I know that if you won’t talk to her, you definitely won’t talk to me, but… just give her a call, okay? Let her know you’re alright. Thanks. Bye.” 

_**August 6 - 12: 43 PM** _

“Hey, Dean. I don’t know if you got my last few messages or when you’ll hear this one or if you even care, but we’re at the hospital. Jess is in labor. Mom and dad are on their way. I’d… really, really appreciate it if you’d pick up your phone. I’m freaking out right now and I need you here. Call me back when you get this message, okay? Bye.” 


End file.
